


Respect Your Elders Because You Will Also Become an Elder

by Garowyn



Category: Gintama
Genre: Comedy, Gen, General
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 15:17:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16477997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Garowyn/pseuds/Garowyn
Summary: Set during the Ryugujo arc. The Shinsengumi suffer the effects of rapid aging.





	Respect Your Elders Because You Will Also Become an Elder

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Gintama or any of the references to other series, songs, and random things. I do own Nakashima and Michiyoshi, who are characters I named just to make things easier (Nakashima was introduced in another Shinsengumi-centric fic of mine). This is an idea I've had for many years, but never sat down to write it out until now.

Standing outside his quarters underneath bright sunlight, Hijikata listened as Takeda relayed information about the fifth unit’s morning patrol schedule that had concluded less than an hour ago. The day, which was turning out to be a scorcher, was already half done, but there was still more police business to conduct and oversee. Days like these were endless for Hijikata, filled with nothing but monotonous report upkeep and petty crime investigation. It had been weeks since the last major skirmish with a Jouishishi faction, and the only interesting case as of late had been the incarceration of two crime bosses, although their organizations were sloppy and flashy at best. Relative peace was preferable to war, but even so, his sword craved some real action.

“There was a drunken brawl in front of a pachinko parlour,” Takeda said, “They tried to fight us, but once we threatened to throw them in jail for a day or two if they didn’t surrender, they backed off.”

“Humph.” Hijikata took a long drag from his cigarette and exhaled. “They’re lucky I wasn’t there to catch them in the act.”

“Right, sir.” Takeda adjusted his glasses, and then turned to his subordinate. “Anything else to report?”

“Yes, Captain,” replied Nakashima, one of Takeda’s subordinate officers, holding a clipboard in his hands. “We received various citizen reports that a streaker ran through Kabukichou’s streets and disrupted the markets at approximately 1047 hours.”

Hijikata winced. “It’s not Kondou-san, is it?” Given the district, there was a strong possibility that the naked lawbreaker could be Kondou due to his propensity for stripping nude at random and also for stalking the uninterested and unpredictable Shimura Tae – and not all at once. Perhaps he had slipped out of the building during the night to greet the morning beneath the floorboards of the Koudoukan Dojo, and then landed himself in a heap of trouble.

“Uh, no, the suspect is described as medium height and slender build with blond hair.” Nakashima glanced back at his clipboard, and began to outline the bare facts of the case. “According to eyewitness reports, the shape of his buttocks does not resemble Chief’s—”

“All right, enough.” Hijikata shook his head, displeased with the rash of ridiculous crimes that should be going to the regular police force instead of the Shinsengumi. “Issue an arrest warrant and deal with him quickly because we don’t have time to waste on an idiot like that.”

“Yes, sir!”

Before Hijikata could comment further, a series of wild shouts and cries, along with an expanding shadow from overhead, alerted him to an impending doom. Glancing upward, he saw a square object rapidly growing in size and narrowing in distance, plummeting straight for them. “Run!” he yelled and dove for the ground just in time for the impact, which rattled the compound, showering the area with dirt and chunks of earth. With a grunt, Hijikata rolled away from the crash site and jumped to his feet, backing away far enough to determine what danger they were in. He was relieved to find that Takeda and Nakashima had escaped compression, both men stumbling to their feet and hurrying away from the box, equally stunned by its unceremonious arrival.

The golden-rimmed mechanical box, two meters tall and wide, stayed silent for about five seconds until a small red compartment door in the center slid open with a hissing noise and emitted a thick gray smoke. Hijikata’s lungs burned when he mistakenly inhaled out of surprise over how fast the smoke spread around the area, entrapping them in a disorienting fog.

Coughing, Hijikata lifted his cravat up to cover his mouth, as the gas spread, further aided by the day’s light breeze. “Stay upwind!” Eyes tearing up, Hijikata backed away even more, waving his hand around to ward off the smoke. Behind him where boots could be heard trampling about, the men were throwing out questions and gagging at the same time. Drawing his sword, Hijikata ordered them to secure the area and ascertain immediate threats. There could be hidden enemies lying in wait around the premises, prepared to strike the Shinsengumi at the first sign of vulnerability.

The hissing noise dissipated and the smoke thinned out, revealing the compound once more along with the box. Hyperaware of any reaction to the potentially poisonous gas, it didn’t take long for Hijikata to notice that his skin, especially on his face, seemed looser, almost drooping. His fingers suddenly ached from gripping his sword, as if they could not enclose any tighter around the handle without shooting pains in the joints. “Get a medical unit out here!” he yelled, and frowned when his voice came out gravelly, a touch rougher than he normally spoke, like he had something stuck in his throat. It had to be a chemical aftereffect, and the worst part was that they had no way of knowing its permanency or fatality.

Movement in the corner of his eye alerted him to the presence of two elderly men hunched over, coughing and groaning. Stranger yet, they wore Shinsengumi uniforms, one of them ranked captain by his cravat and vest. “Halt!” Hijikata ordered, pointing his sword at them. For all he knew, _they_ might be responsible for this attack, disguising themselves as Shinsengumi soldiers, robust in their old age. “Identify yourselves!”

The one with the captain’s uniform and receding white hairline straightened up – albeit slowly – and lowered his glasses, peering over the top of them with a frown. “Vice-Chief…? It’s me, Takeda!”

“That’s not Vice-Chief,” said the second man with shaggy grey hair and a thin moustache, “I think we should be asking who _you_ are, old man.”

“‘Old man?’” Hijikata narrowed his eyes, wondering if this was some kind of prank or a trick of the mind brought on by the toxic fumes. “Who the hell are you calling ‘old man?’ _You’re_ the old man here!”

“Vice-Chief!!!” Yamazaki’s high-pitched and worried voice echoed across the compound: “Vice-Chief!! It’s an emergency!!”

Afraid something had happened to Kondou, Hijikata grit his teeth and gestured at the two men again with his sword. “Stay where you are!” Then, he quickly sheathed his sword and dashed away in the direction of Yamazaki’s voice.

After what seemed like an absurd amount of time spent running and trying to figure out why he was short of breath and stiff all over, Hijikata finally reached Yamazaki, who was wearing a medical mask and plain civilian clothes, standing on the main path that led to the entrance.

“Vice-Chief, you’re never going to believe this! There are giant turtle machines dropping boxes of poisonous gas all over Edo—” Yamazaki stopped and gasped, eyes widening to full capacity. “I’m too late! It’s gotten to you, too!”

Hijikata bent over, hands on his knees, panting. “Damn, I really should quit smoking…”

“No, it’s not just that! It’s because you’re old! Literally, visibly _old!_ ”

Wondering what Yamazaki was babbling about this time, Hijikata straightened up and promptly froze in place when he heard a large crack from somewhere in his body. Pain exploded all over. “What the hell?? I can’t move!!” He’d experienced throbbing aches after tough battles before, but none to the extent of feeling like he wanted to plop down in a chair and never move again unless absolutely necessary.

“Take it easy, Vice-Chief!” Yamazaki moved to help Hijikata, as though guiding an elderly person. “As I was saying before, turtle machines are depositing boxes of poisonous gas all around the city, and it’s turning everyone into—”

“Why are you acting like I can’t walk by myself?” Hijikata shoved his arm away and shuffled over to the engawa, wincing and holding a hand to his lower back. “What the hell is in that smoke? A paralyzing toxin?”

“That’s I’m _trying_ to tell you! Only it’s not paralyzing you, it’s _aging_ you!” Yamazaki pointed toward the skyline where dozens of oddly shaped aircraft were passing overhead. “It’s happening to everyone who comes in contact with the gas from the boxes they’re bombing us with! I came back here as fast as I could, but I’m too late! You’ve become _old!”_

Hijikata then realized there was an extra layer on his face, as though he had grown a second skin. He patted around his chin, eyes widening when he felt a short goatee all around his mouth and leading to his nose. He’d only forgotten to shave once in the last few months, but last time he checked, facial hair did not grow _this_ quickly and certainly not without his consent or knowledge. “What’s going on? I shaved this morning!”

Yamazaki pulled out a pocket mirror, as though he’d been in possession of one all along and was waiting to advance the plot with it. “Take a look at yourself!”

Astonished by the goateed and grey-haired man with a familiar set of bangs staring back at him, Hijikata grabbed the mirror and inspected himself and the transverse lines across his forehead more closely, mouth agape at the drastic change in his appearance. “The hell? Is this some kind of trick? Why do I look like an old man??”

“I just finished telling you!!”

“Is this _really_ what I’m going to look like when I’m sixty? Or seventy?”

“I guess so! But, more importantly, how do we stop the virus? Look – everyone is affected!”

Hijikata lowered the mirror and assessed the situation. More Shinsengumi emerged from the halls and training grounds, their alarmed voices filling the air and rising in tone, as they discovered themselves to be suffering from various ailments: arthritic joints, new wrinkle growth, and an incessant need to complain about today’s fast-paced and deafening music of whippersnappers – which doubtlessly contributed to the slow deterioration of their auditory senses.

“I already contacted Pops and explained what’s happening,” Yamazaki continued, “He’s at the Ryugujo Resort and said to monitor the situation here. Apparently, they’re dealing with the same aging virus over there!”

“Where’s it coming from? Who’s behind all this?”

“No one knows yet—”

“Then start investigating!” With a grimace, Hijikata forced himself to stand and walk a little way outward from the veranda. “We need to disable that box first and quarantine the area—” He groaned when pain shot up his spine again. “Damn it, my back is killing me!”

“Let me help with the crick in your back,” a familiar voice offered from behind.

In spite of his aches and pains, Hijikata jumped to the side by habit, narrowly missing bazooka gunfire. Dirt sprayed everywhere, and Hijikata coughed, waving away the smoke. “Sougo!! What the hell are you—” He lost the next words on his tongue when the air cleared and revealed a man with dark red eyes and closely cropped grey hair, parted to the side. He was wearing a captain’s uniform with a sleeping mask hanging around his neck. “S-Sougo? Is that you?”

The man blinked at first, staring at him for a few seconds before saying, “Sorry, old man, I thought you were the rotten vice-chief of our organization.”

“Captain Okita, it _is_ Vice-Chief!”

“Really?” Okita squinted at Hijikata and then shook his head in apparent disbelief. “Wow…you’re well on your way to becoming decrepit and useless. It’s time you retired.” He raised the bazooka and took aim. “Don’t worry, your successor has been chosen on account of his youth.”

“It seems no matter how old you get, you’re still an ass!” Hijikata snapped, “Put that away, you idiot! We’re dealing with a major predicament right now. Where’s Kondou-san?”

Lowering the bazooka and massaging the shoulder that had beared the weapon’s weight, Okita glanced around at the chaos unfolding on the premises. “I don’t know. I saw him going to the bathroom a while ago, but who knows where he went after that. What’s going on?”

Both Hijikata and Yamazaki quickly explained the situation with Yamazaki giving Okita the mirror. Staring at himself for almost a minute while they spoke, even adjusting his hair a bit, Okita showed no outward signs of shock or panic. Instead, he said to Hijikata, “I have less wrinkles than you. Probably because you’re always glaring like you’re constipated. You should change that before it’s too late or maybe consider stool softener pills. I hear they work wonders.”

Resisting the urge to throttle him, Hijikata scowled and replied, “That’s _not_ important right now. Besides, your face hardly changes expression _and_ you’re an immature brat. It’s no wonder you haven’t aged much yet, but I promise you will if I don’t kill you first for getting on my last nerve.”

“That’s rude, Hijikata-san. I’m only trying to help you age gracefully.”

“ _Tch_. You’ll help me all right. You’ll help me right into an early grave—”

“What’s going on here?”

Relieved that his commander’s voice sounded youthful as always, Hijikata spun around. “Kondou-san! We—” He broke off at seeing a stooping old walking toward them on the engawa with his cane rapping against the wooden landing. A longer and bushier beard adorned his face. His grey hair was mixed with white, and formed a semi-circle around the patch of baldness atop his head. “K-Kondou-san??”

“Ah, Toushi!” Kondou spoke in a strained voice and leaned against his cane, “What’s all the commotion—” He broke off into a coughing fit that rattled his fragile body.

Hijikata rushed over to him, ignoring the pain in his knee joints. “Kondou-san!”

Waving a hand in the air, as though swatting flies away, Kondou regained his composure and cleared his throat. “It’s nothing, I’m fine. Just a bit of annoying phlegm caught in my throat, ha, ha!” He stared at Hijikata for a long moment, and then asked, “Did you dye your hair? And when did you decide to grow a beard? It looks good, though. Very dignified.”

Hijikata touched his circle beard again, still unsettled by the unfamiliarity of sudden excess hair growth, but not altogether appalled by it. Once or twice while shaving and studying his mirror reflection, he’d entertained the thought of growing out a distinguished moustache when he was older, maybe by his forties or fifties. There were military and political leaders and a good-natured swordsmith around the next block that sported different kinds of facial hair in their advanced age, especially with the changing trends in the new era. Glancing back at Kondou, Hijikata examined the fuller beard and decided that keeping things short, neatly trimmed, and manageable was more his style.

“You look different, too, Sougo,” Kondou said, giving the younger man a once-over glance. “What made you decide to also dye your hair? Are you and Toushi trying out a new style together? That’s great if you’re getting along and having fun together!”

“Kondou-san, please don’t say such revolting things.” Okita held up the mirror, giving Kondou a chance to behold his newly aged visage.

“What is it – is there something on my face? Did I leave some toothpaste behind—” Kondou stopped, and peered closer into the mirror with a frown. “That’s odd,” he said after a few moments of silence, stroking his beard, “Something looks different today…”

“Can’t you tell why?” Yamazaki asked.

Kondou started to twirl his beard around his finger, still checking himself out in the mirror. “Oh! I see the problem now.”

Hijikata expected that the shock of old age would take its time settling in with Kondou and more of the men. “It’s the result of an aging virus—”

Kondou glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. “Aging virus? I was going to say I forgot to trim my nose hairs this morning, but what’s this about an aging virus?”

The three men quickly explained the viral effects of the gas, as well as the unknown origins of the large box and turtle aircraft that had now vanished from the sky, leaving behind only the faint clamour of the citizen’s reaction to the virus across the city. Finally realizing the gravity of the situation, Kondou’s gaze swept over the courtyard full of Shinsengumi elders. All of them were complaining about the drastic changes in their appearances and the rise of internal pain and weakness. “This is the most bizarre epidemic I’ve ever seen, even stranger than the Zombie Unibrow Disaster three months ago or the Hollow Ship Incident of 1803. I was just a boy back then.”

“You weren’t born until about forty years later, so how could you possibly have seen that?” Hijikata said, and then sighed. “Never mind that. We need to find out who’s behind this chemical attack and get our hands on some kind of vaccine.”

“How long ago was the first sighting of the turtle machines?”

“Almost ten minutes ago for us,” Hijikata replied, looking up at the sky for any sign of those machines returning.

Kondou turned to Yamazaki. “And why are _you_ unaffected?”

“I didn’t breathe the gas in and wasn’t near it at the time,” Yamazaki answered, pointing to his mask. “I saw the boxes landing from a distance. According to witness reports, they first started crawling in from the sea and then from the sky.”

“Isn’t that Shimaru-niisan?” Okita suddenly spoke up, pointing to a familiar thick-haired figure balancing atop the walls before leaping towards them—only to crash into the tree canopy and tumble to the ground, leaves floating down onto him.

“Shimaru!” Kondou cried, as Yamazaki rushed over to assist the fallen captain. “Are you all right? Are you hurt?”

His signature orange shade of hair now grey, Saitou climbed to his feet with the aid of Yamazaki’s arms. Taking out his notebook and writing in it with a shaking hand, Saitou spent about five minutes scribbling out a response while the rest of the Shinsengumi walked about, exploring the extent of their physical abilities. When Saitou finally turned the notebook around, he had written: _Sorry, can’t find my teeth-Z._

“You took all that time to write that?! And we never see your teeth, anyway!”

A new message appeared on a fresh page, written in less than a minute: _Two gangs are headed this way-Z. They have weapons and do not appear to have been infected with the aging virus yet-Z._

“I suspected something like this might happen,” Hijikata remarked, “And most of the men aren’t in the best condition for battle.” He could overhear snippets of conversation: Todo complaining about his swollen knees; Kumanaku fretting over the fact that his weakened immune system would make him more susceptible to germs; and Harada ranting about wild and crazy youths, and the catastrophic future ahead they were sure to create.

The wrinkles on his forehead becoming more pronounced with his deep frown, Kondou issued a command: “Move the infirm indoors and ensure their protection from the yakuza. Then, gather all physically able men to me – and be quick about it!”

Within several minutes, his orders were carried out and completed. Those who were less debilitated lined up behind their captains, who stood in front of Kondou and Hijikata. The war cries of the imminent yakuza invasion bounced off the surrounding neighbourhood walls.   

Kondou took a step forward and addressed the men with a booming voice: “Listen up! Our bodies are different now, but our will to protect the city hasn’t changed. We’ve trained our whole lives for battle. You all know what to do.” Drawing in a deep breath, Kondou continued, “Ah, speaking of training, did I ever tell you about the time I delivered milk bottles to several villages with sixty-pound turtle shells strapped to my back? I waded through rivers, traversed thick forests, climbed tall peaks, and balanced across unsteady logs above steep gorges. It was a major part of my training to become the strongest in all the land. My master even wrote my name on a rock and threw it into the sea for me to find within twenty minutes if I wanted dinner. Oh, I certainly didn’t want to miss dinner. We were going to have fish cake stew with radishes! Radish-picking was also part of my training. Those radishes tasted delicious and they looked attractive, too. I loved to eat radishes. I still do. I also love to eat konjac, steamed dumplings—oh, did I ever tell you about my friend and his mother’s dumplings? They were _wonderfully_ delicious, but one day he shared them with a pheasant, a monkey, and a dog—”

“That’s too long of a story! And you went totally off track at the end!” cried the men, “And isn’t that Master Roshi’s training regimen?!”

“How can a radish look attractive?” someone wondered out loud.

“ _Don’t_ ask,” Hijikata replied immediately, and intervened before Kondou could continue his rambling into another topic, as some elderly were prone to doing. “Kondou-san, we need a plan of action right now.”

Kondou gave a curt nod. “You’re right. Sougo, take your unit to the front and prevent them from entering the premises.”

Heaving a deep sigh, Okita replied, “Okay, but is this going to take long? There’s a senior’s discount today on tickets to see Hatekeyama’s final rakugo performance before he retires, and I don’t want to miss it just because a bunch of no-good hooligans want to play at war. I’m old now, I should be able to do what I want.”

Hijikata glared at him. “You’re not _really_ old, you just _look_ like it, you damn brat. You still have years of service to put in before you can retire with benefits. Now, get out there or commit seppuku.”

Okita clicked his tongue. “The youth of today have no respect for us seniors. It’s no wonder our society is falling apart with bad-mannered men like Hijikata-san ruling over the populace. Don’t you have an ounce of shame left in you, Hijikata-san?” The other captains and soldiers nodded, murmuring amongst themselves and casting disapproving looks at Hijikata.

“I’m just as old as the rest of you! In fact, _older_ , so _you’re_ the ones showing disrespect!”

“Yakuza incoming at five o’clock!!” Yamazaki yelled from beyond the entranceway, where he had been keeping vigilance.

“Oh, visitors!” Kondou grinned, rapping the ground twice with his cane. “It’s been awhile since I’ve had visitors! Nobody visits me anymore…is it because I tell too many stories? I love to tell visitors about my days as a boy before today’s technology. You kids sure have it good now. Did I ever tell you about the time I delivered milk bottles to villages with sixty-pound turtle shells—”

“They’re not visitors,” Yamazaki refuted, as he ran back inside, “They’re villains!”

“Oi, stop yelling!” Harada snapped, bopping Yamazaki on the head with the pommel of his sword. “You damn kids are always _yelling_ about something and never _listening!_ ”

Groaning and nursing the new bump on his head, Yamazaki gaped at the tenth unit captain. “Ahhh, what the hell?! I’m older than half the men here, even Chief!”

Glancing at Kondou and Hijikata, Okita gestured toward Yamazaki with a thumb. “Him being thirty-two always seemed more like an ass-pull than anything else.” Both men nodded in agreement.

“This is no time to be breaking the fourth wall!”

Gang members brandishing swords and short swords stormed through the front gates before the first division could reach it, numbering about fifty. There were men in suits of pinstripes and plain designs, some with their sleeves rolled up to reveal intricate tattoos. Others wore kimonos with sarashi on display, leading Hijikata to conclude that these were two separate but allied syndicates and likely the ones whose bosses had been apprehended two weeks ago.

“I told you they would be affected by that gas! They’re old-timers now!” declared one of the leaders with a slicked-back hair and sunglasses. “Now’s our chance!” He lifted his blade and singled out Takeda, charging him. “This is for our boss, Genzo the Weasel!”

“And _our_ boss, Nine Fingers Kyukichi!” cried a young man with an impressive pompadour and a wide grin, rushing Okita.

“Now you can match with your boss,” Okita casually remarked when he sliced at the forefinger of the gang member with pinpoint accuracy, taking advantage of reckless movements and rendering the man’s grip useless.

Remaining behind to protect Kondou, Hijikata watched the clash of swords and noted that the rest of the Shinsengumi were constantly kept on the defensive, beset by the woes of their new physical ailments. Only Okita handled himself reasonably well, not too advanced in age yet to be hampered by a stiff joint or two—that, or he just hid his pain well. Hijikata knew from experience that stubborn pride alone could carry a warrior through peril until he obtained victory or passed out.

A few gang members broke through the Shinsengumi’s defensive lines, targeting Hijikata and Kondou. Hijikata caught the first blade, wincing at the spasm of pain in his wrists and shoulders, but forced himself to ignore it. He diverted the enemy’s sword upward and then delivered a solid kick to the man’s chest, knocking him to the ground. Then, he faced the second enemy, dodging the blade and slashing at the sword-bearing arm.

When the third advanced toward him, Hijikata found that he could move around easier now that he was all limbered up. “Think you can kill me just because I’m old now, you young punk?” he growled at the gang member, parrying two blows before drawing his left foot forward and pivoting around so that he was shoulder to shoulder, and then finishing off with a sharp elbow jab to the nose. Relishing the man’s screams of pain over broken cartilage and cracked bone, Hijikata told him, “Now you have a taste of chronic pain.”

Several of the Shinsengumi cheered at seeing their vice-commander soundlessly defeat three enemies in spite of his senior state. Their morale raised, the tide of the battle shifted in their favour with more Shinsengumi victories; sprightly warriors shining with renewed confidence in their time-honed abilities.

“I may not be as young as I once was,” Harada grunted, as he fought off an opponent aiming to reach Kondou, “but the body never forgets!”

“That’s it!” Kondou called out, still leaning on his cane, “Stand your ground! Teach these young’uns a lesson! They need to learn to respect the elderly! Show them war veterans can’t be defeated easily!”

“If only they weren’t defeated so easily by sleep!” Yamazaki yelled, defending Saitou, who had fallen asleep upright, sword in one hand and notebook in the other, bearing the message: _Time for my afternoon nap-Z._

“Seize the wounded!” Hijikata shouted, directing Shinsengumi to bind the fallen gang members and also to remove their own injured comrades from the battleground. “Subdue these brats quickly! We don’t have time to waste with the city in danger!” They couldn’t lose sight of the possibility that another wave of turtle aircraft could strike again, especially when they had yet to discover the identity of the orchestrator and their reason for attacking Edo with a virus. Drastically aging the sixty-five-and-under portion of the population seemed like a rather silly way to conquer the nation yet not without its possibilities. Nevertheless, the Shinsengumi wouldn’t rest until the threat had been neutralized.

A little breathless from his own battles, Hijikata surveyed the skirmish and zeroed in on Okita, who was surrounded by gang members. Apparently, they had switched tactics and decided to focus all their effort on defeating the deadliest Shinsengumi swordsman.

Though he would deny it later, Hijikata grew concerned at the way Okita’s chest was heaving in addition to his unsteady landing when he leaped backward to avoid a diagonal strike instead of relying on his usual offensive measures.

“Go help him,” Kondou said, also spotting the weaknesses in Okita’s form. “I’ll be fine here.”

Hesitating briefly, Hijikata nodded, and then raced over to where Okita was fighting two opponents at once. Recognizing the moment when Okita was about to lunge forward with his right leg, Hijikata ran faster.

Okita thrust his leg and sword forward, intending to stab the gang member’s torso, but when he heard a crack from somewhere down his spine, he froze in mid-attack, eyes widening.

The gang member cackled, raising his sword. “We got you now, Shinsengumi scum!”

“Sougoooo!” Kondou cried.

Hijikata pushed his legs to their limits and dove in front of Okita, halting the blade and driving it away, but leaving himself vulnerable on the side to the other opponent. Piercing, hot pain exploded when he felt the sword drive through his skin, but Hijikata had enough strength to twist around, hoping the blade would miss his vitals and the chance to burrow in deeper. “Bastard,” he rasped, wishing he could claw the smug grin off the man’s face.

“Toushiiii!”

Unable to maintain his balance, Hijikata fell backward into Okita, and they toppled to the ground in a heap. Their two enemies stood above them, laughing and readying their swords for a final blow.

With a sudden great roar, Kondou threw his cane to the ground and tore apart his clothes, leaving himself in only a blinding white fundoshi. “You made the grave mistake of thinking I let myself go after I reached my golden years!” Standing as tall and proud as a tower with his hands on his hips, he boasted a body still in prime muscular shape with bulging biceps and chiseled abs that had not fallen away to flab with disuse. “You’re a hundred years too early if you think you can defeat a student of the Turtle Hermit Master!”

“That’s _still_ the wrong anime!” the Shinsengumi yelled, but they erupted into cheers when Kondou drew his sword and charged the two gang members, who had nearly killed Hijikata and Okita, and made quick work of them.

Dazed from the whole experience, Hijikata lifted himself up with some difficulty, wincing when the pain of his wound increased. Touching his side, he glanced down and saw his hand come away wet with blood.

Behind him, Okita stirred and pushed himself up off the ground, leaning back on his haunches and rubbing his lower back, groaning, “Couldn’t you have spared me and fell flat on your ass somewhere else?”

“Is that the thanks I get for saving your life? A smart mouth?” Hijikata pressed an arm to his side, watching Kondou’s battle fall in and out of focus. “You should be kowtowing and begging for my forgiveness toward your acts of insubordination all these years.”

“I didn’t need your help.”

“Oh, really? And what is that you were doing, freezing up like a statue in the middle of an attack? Was that part of your strategy? If so, then it’s a shitty one.”

“I wanted them to believe I was weak,” Okita answered, brushing dirt off of his uniform, “I was always in control.”

“Just admit that you threw out your back and would have been seriously injured, maybe even killed, had I not come to your rescue.” Hijikata sucked in a breath, feeling as though life was draining away from him alongside his blood. Being old meant his body couldn’t handle wounds of this nature anymore on top of past injuries returning to haunt him, sapping his stamina. “Besides…someone has to look after Kondou-san for me when I’m gone.”

“What do you mean?”

Drowsiness settled over Hijikata like a heavy blanket, and his eyes drooped, as he slumped forward, staring at his fingers coated in glistening red. “I think I’ve had it…” He heard Okita shift around to his side in silence. “I always knew I’d die in battle, but I thought it would be for Kondou-san…instead it was for someone who’s tried to kill me all this time.” A wry smile crossed his lips. “What an ironic, cruel twist of fate.”

“Isn’t that a line from the yakuza and alien B-movie you like?”

Ignoring him and the embarrassment over the fact that it _was_ a quote, Hijikata continued, “But I don’t care, so long as a person with a past like mine was able to protect somebody in the end.”

“This is all starting to sound like a scene from that movie, too. You’ve watched it too many times. I had no idea you were that much of a geek, Hijikata-san.”

“Shut up.” Hijikata coughed, hissing when the movement caused his wound to flare even more painfully. “Damn it…I can’t believe I was done in by a low level delinquent wearing too much hair gel. What a pathetic man I am…”

“I can’t argue with that,” Okita said, lifting Hijikata’s arm up and inspecting the gash with an impassive expression. “Looks like you’re going to bleed to death. I’ll miss trying to take your position as vice-chief through dishonest means. Do you have any final requests?”

“Yeah…” Hijikata patted the side of his jacket. “My mayonnaise…I want to have one last taste of it before I go…”   

Okita reached inside to retrieve the bottle of mayonnaise. With one last smile at Kondou’s blazing form in battle, Hijikata leaned against Okita’s shoulder and waited for the divine sweetness of mayonnaise that would accompany him into the next life.

But instead of receiving a merciful dab of it on his tongue, Okita jammed the entire bottle into Hijikata’s mouth and squeezed the condiment out non-stop, replacing all oxygen with mayonnaise.

Eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets, Hijikata realized with horror that Okita intended to finish him off through asphyxiation, thus seeing his wicked, lifelong mission to the end. Struggling to breathe through his nose, Hijikata gained enough strength to reach up and yank the bottle out of Okita’s tight grip. Gasping for air, Hijikata shoved Okita away and sat upright, snapping through a wheezy voice, “What the hell are you doing? Are you trying to kill me faster?!”

“I thought you might prefer to die while doing what you love.”

“ _Choking_ to death??”

“But on mayonnaise.”

“I’ll give _you_ something to choke about!” Hijikata grabbed Okita’s collar and hauled him over, so that they were whiskered nose to clean-shaven nose. “Listen, you conniving little _bastard_. While my life was flashing before my eyes, I saw and remembered all the stupid things you’ve done to me since I first met you. So I’m not going to die – I’m going to _live_ , and I’m going to make your life a miserable hell by always staying one step ahead of you and one rank above you for the rest of your life. You _got_ that, wiseass?”

“I lied.”

Hijikata narrowed his eyes. “What?”

“I lied.” Okita gestured downward with a tilt of his head. “You’re not bleeding to death. It must be a shallow cut.”

Loosening his grip on Okita’s collar, Hijikata glanced down and inspected his wound. It still stung, but the blood flow was not as heavy as he initially believed. Any movement he made without binding it first would worsen it or disrupt the healing process, but for the moment, he had not yet reached the end of his rope. “But I…it felt like I was dying… How…?”

Shrugging, Okita replied, “Don’t know. I guess when you’re old, everything feels like death when you know it’s soon.” He paused, and then, with a slight smile of amusement, added, “Your lungs must be in shitty condition already from the smoking you do, but for you to still be able to yell at me like that…I’d say you’re far from croaking.”

Hijikata’s shoulders sagged with a sigh, grateful that he was allotted more time to live and stay by Kondou’s side for as long as he could. Then, something occurred to him, and he frowned at Okita. “Wait a minute – even when you knew I wasn’t dying, you still tried to get rid of me, anyway?”

“You know what they say – old habits are hard to break. Besides, it was more fun that way than playing along with your dramatic fake death scene.”

Clenching his teeth together, Hijikata was about to unleash another torrent of threats and a promise of punishments, but held back when Okita grabbed one of his arms and hooked it over his shoulder, pulling Hijikata up onto his feet and leaving him in a state of open-mouthed bewilderment.

“Come on, old man,” Okita said, reaching down to pick up both their swords and hand Hijikata’s back to him. “Let’s show these brats how it’s done.”

After staring at Okita in disbelief for a few seconds longer, Hijikata then smirked and gave a quick nod of assent, eager to crush a few egos and enjoy a good brawl in spite of every limb crying out for rest. “They’ll find out what a real thorny is like.”

They were about to rejoin the battle when they froze at the sight of yakuza and delinquents lined in a semi-circle before them. Many of them were sobbing, some with their arms covering their eyes and others letting their tears and snot flow freely. A few started up a slow clap, admiration shining in their smiles.

“What the hell is this?” Hijikata demanded, noticing that all the fighting had ceased with everyone waiting to see what would happen next.

“A standing ovation, I think,” Okita replied, “Maybe your almost-death scene was very moving for them.”

“Not just that!” one of the yakuza with a blood-splattered white suit spoke up in a gruff voice, limping forward on one leg. He removed his sunglasses to reveal puffy, red eyes. “Two guys who can’t get along due to their contrasting personalities are forced to work together, and by the end, they have each other’s backs! They rise against the tide and join forces to defeat their enemies! And then, just when you think they’re going to make it out alive together, one of the guys sacrifices himself for the other. The dying guy makes the other guy promise to win, to never give up, to always fight against crime. It doesn’t get any better than that!”

“There’s something weird about hearing a yakuza talk about fighting back against crime…” Yamazaki remarked, “Anyway, I wasn’t aware yakuza watched buddy cop movies…but, then, Vice-Chief watches yakuza movies, so maybe it’s not so strange.”

“I can’t fight them anymore!” the same yakuza declared, throwing down his weapon. “What kind of a man would I be if I attacked two old heroes like that? A damned one with a rotten, unforgivable soul, that’s what. I would have to cut all my fingers off for indulging in such a shameless act!”

“It never occurred to you that coming here to fight a bunch of men you knew had become elderly was _also_ a shameless act??” Yamazaki countered, but his words were lost among the collective agreement to lay down their weapons and fight no more.

A delinquent with a black pompadour, streaked with neon green dye on the sides, suddenly pointed at Hijikata. “Ya look just like my gramps!” He paused to wipe tears away from his eyes, and then continued, “I haven’t spoken to my gramps in years! I left home at fourteen and went down the wrong path. I started beating up everyone who tried to steer me right or even look at me wrong. I even beat a guy who said I was shit at singing ‘Linda, Linda’ in karaoke.”

“He really _is_ shit, though,” someone whispered among the gang members.

“Shut up! I’ll cut ya!” The delinquent spun around to flip his middle finger up in the general direction of the speaker. “Anyway, my gramps – he told me I would always be welcomed home, that he’d always wait for me no matter what.” The delinquent burst into a fresh round of tears, dropping to his knees and cradling his face in his hands. “I miss my gramps like hell! I want to go home, but I can’t! I’m too ashamed to face him!”

Hearing the delinquent’s sob story abated Hijikata’s growing storm of a temper that he was readying to unleash on the gangsters, but not completely.

“You sound like you need a hug,” Okita said to the blubbering delinquent, “A nice, grandfatherly hug full of forgiveness.” With an innocent expression that he had long perfected, Okita said to Hijikata, “Why, Hijikata-san! Didn’t this juvie just say you reminded him of his grandfather? Why don’t you give him a hug to ease his sorrows?”

The delinquent looked up with hopeful eyes. Some of the men of his group and some of the yakuza all chimed in with their consensus on what a great idea that was.

“ _Hell_ no,” Hijikata answered flatly.

“Toushi!” Kondou walked over to their area, leaving behind a pile of groaning enemies on the ground. Kondou himself was scraped up in a few places, but otherwise appeared none the worse for wear. Back to the use of his cane, and flanked by Harada and Todo, Kondou joined them and said, “Maybe not a hug, but he sounds like he could use some advice.” Kondou looked at the youth. “What’s your name?”

“Michiyoshi!”

“Well, Michiyoshi-kun, I think you might benefit from words of wisdom Toushi here may have to say.”

So the sob story had gotten to Kondou, too, and Hijikata knew Kondou was most certainly thinking about their shared past. Pressing his lips together to form an impatient line, Hijikata glanced at Michiyoshi and said, “Advice? He doesn’t look or sound like the type to take advice. I’d be wasting my time.” He paused, eyes flicking to the top of Michiyoshi’s head. “But I’ll say one thing: get a haircut.”

Kondou shook his head. “No, no, _serious_ advice.”

“Get a haircut or I’ll seriously rip your hair off and stuff it down your throat.”

“O-Oi!” Michiyoshi’s hands flew to his pompadour. “This is a popular style! It’s cool as hell! And it took me a whole year to get it like this!”

“I can’t keep up with young people and their ever-changing trends,” Todo grumbled, wearing his blue bandana around his neck now. He pointed at one of Michiyoshi’s fellow gang members. “Look at that one, he has purple hair!”

“At least he still _has_ hair,” Harada said with a scowl, absently rubbing the top of his scalp.

“Why are _you_ complaining?” Yamazaki asked, “You haven’t grown your hair out for years!”

Okita, who had been silent for far too long, moved swiftly to sever the thick portion of another delinquent’s pompadour from his head, and left him only with a bald spot and his longer mullet. The delinquent screamed in horror at the chunk of his hair falling to the ground in disgrace. Okita then said, “I think a haircut is sound advice. Don’t you agree, Ochimusa-san?”

Sensing the shift toward hostility rippling through the gang members once more because of Okita’s impulsive and mean-spirited action, Hijikata realized that he now held the power to prevent another uprising, and let the exhausted and elderly Shinsengumi walk away from this battle without losing their pride. Releasing an exasperated sigh, Hijikata held up a hand and said, “ _Wait_.” Unwilling to sheath his sword in case this was all one grand scheme to throw him off his guard, Hijikata lowered it instead and slowly made his way over to Michiyoshi. The last thing he wanted to do was encourage a sniveling young upstart, but he could no longer ignore Kondou’s pleading gaze, conveying the desire to end this conflict as peacefully as possible, especially with the Shinsengumi’s dwindling strength.

The air around him grew quiet, as Hijikata approached Michiyoshi, who stumbled to his feet and waited with slouched shoulders and a tear-streaked, pitiful-looking face. Rolling his eyes to the sky for a second, Hijikata took a deep breath and said, “Listen…I’m sure your grandfather will be glad if you turn yourself in and pay for your crimes, and spend the rest of your life in atonement.” He paused, thinking over what else to add. “And don’t be afraid to visit him…nothing makes an old man happier than having his grandchild return home alive, regardless of their mistakes.”

Michiyoshi nodded and wiped at his eyes, beginning to cry again. “I will! I p-promise!”

“Oi…quit your crying,” Hijikata forced out through teeth clamped together, repelled over having to offer comforting words to someone who had only minutes ago was battling the Shinsengumi. “The sight of your crying face is annoying.”

Michiyoshi sobbed even harder. “That’s what Gramps always said!” Without warning, he clasped Hijikata’s free hand and held it above his bowed head. “Thank ya! Thank ya, Gramps!”

“Shut up and let go, you overgrown infant!” Hijikata tried to pry his hand from Michiyoshi’s tight grip, yanking the delinquent all over the place with the last of his strength. “And don’t call me ‘Gramps!’”

A round of hearty applause and cheers filled the air.

Wrenching himself free of the emotional youth, Hijikata backed away and glared at a smug Okita, holding him responsible for starting everything. “You better sleep with one eye open...”

Kondou walked to the center of the circle, pride written all over his face. “Well done, Toushi! You’ve made the first step in bridging the gap between the generations."

“I would have preferred to bridge the gap between my fist and his face.”

Kondou chuckled. “Yes, I know, but there was something about him that reminded me of how you used to be.” Without elaborating on that, much less alleviating Hijikata’s horror at such a comparison, Kondou addressed the gang members, saying, in a louder voice, “As you have all just witnessed, we can end this pointless fight without having to kill each other. As your elders, we have demonstrated taking a higher road instead of engaging in foolish behaviour. We have also shown you mercy, so I urge you act wisely and accept your defeat now before we return to our youthful selves, because I can guarantee when that happens, some of my men won’t be as agreeable to this truce as they are being now.”

Hijikata observed the crowd closely for any kind of reaction, knowing that Kondou was bluffing to buy themselves some time for obtaining a vaccine or waiting to see if their aged states would reverse on their own. If they continued to fight, there could be fatalities, especially with most of the Shinsengumi looking like they were going to keel over from prolonged battle in their frail bodies.

So far, the gang members appeared willing to surrender with no immediate attempt to attack again. After all, they had only shown up when they were certain the Shinsengumi would be defenseless, showing that a fear of the samurai and their retribution was still rooted deep within their souls.

The first yakuza who had thrown down his sword spoke up, “All right. We’d rather die with our boss than here with a bunch of doddering old men.” His comrades grunted their agreement and abandoned their weapons.

“Good choice,” Kondou told him.

“I can arrange that,” Hijikata muttered under his breath, although he approved of and shared in their sentiments.

The presumed second leader of Michiyoshi’s gang nodded, dropping his own weapon, igniting a chain reaction from the rest. “Yeah, my buddies and I are prepared to pay the price! We knew what we were getting into when we came to attack all of ya.”

“Good,” Kondou said, “I’m glad for the change of heart here!”

One of the yakuza members asked, “Does that mean you’ll release our bosses?”

Kondou smiled sadly, and shook his head. “No, that’s one thing I can’t do! Your boss was operating an illegal gambling facility.” He looked at one of the other gang members. “And _your_ boss was terrorizing the Sugamo neighbourhood—and shame on all of you for participating, I might add! That’s where us elderly buy our favourite red underwear!”

“We’ll never do it again!”

“Please spare us!!”

“Unfortunately, everyone’s going to have to be arrested for assaulting police officers _and_ the elderly,” Kondou explained, “Your sentence depends on the courts, but, as Toushi said, don’t let whatever happens stop you from trying to live a life with a clean soul. Most of you are young, so take it from an old man like me: make the most of the time you’ve got and live without regrets! Because one day you’ll wake up and realize that, even though you’ve lived for so long, the time you were given wasn’t nearly enough. Life is short, so live right and live well!”

One of the gangsters with a trembling bottom lip burst out, “G-G-Gorilla Boooooss!!”

“‘Gorilla Boss?’ Why did you have to add ‘gorilla?’ Are you saying I’m a gorilla??”

Several more joined him in chanting Kondou’s semi-new nickname, including the Shinsengumi.

“Why do you have to join in on calling me ‘Gorilla Boss,’ too??”

Finally sheathing his sword, Hijikata watched the younger men crowd around Kondou while the Shinsengumi elders looked on with smiling faces. The conflict was over, and while they still needed to investigate the aging virus and anticipate another attack, he was content to see the outpour of admiration and affection for their general. It was only natural.

“Well…leave it to Kondou-san to round up another bunch of rowdy, no-good thornies, huh?” Okita remarked, reaching inside his uniform for a handkerchief to wipe his blade clean of blood.

Hijikata retrieved a carton of cigarettes from inside his jacket, and, against his better judgment as one suffering the effects of long-term smoking, lit one up. “He should have learned the first time. We’re nothing but trouble.” But he couldn’t stop himself from smiling just a little over the way Kondou threw his head back with a laugh.

“Gramps!” Michiyoshi called out, jogging over to the two men.

Mouth taking a sharp downturn, Hijikata eyed the delinquent with a twitching vein in his temple. “Call me that again and I’ll kill you.”

“Do ya think I’ll be allowed to write letters to my gramps while I’m in jail? I can’t visit him, and he might be too sick to visit me, but we can write each other letters!” Michiyoshi’s face scrunched up into a thoughtful frown. “Except I don’t write real good, but he always liked my drawings, especially when I drew squirrels…”

His annoyance dispelled by the sincerity of Michiyoshi’s expression, and the evocation of another turbulent and remorseful youth struggling to communicate with his elder brother by letter, Hijikata interrupted Michiyoshi’s babbling with a calmer reply, “If an idiot can make a career of drawing manga while imprisoned, then I don’t see why an idiot like you can’t send his old man a couple of drawings.” 

Michiyoshi beamed at him. “Maybe I’ll send ya one, too!”

Hijikata blew smoke out, and replied, “Send me one and I’ll kill you.”

“Look there, in the sky!” Yamazaki suddenly shouted, pointing above their heads.

During their frivolous battle, a gigantic floating palace had positioned itself above Edo. At first everyone thought it was Laputa, but soon changed their minds when the palace discharged a fiery sphere that turned out to be a missile, complete with a subsequent expulsion of gas. Immediately afterward, a second canister exploded not far behind from the first one, engulfing the city in golden light, followed by a heavy, descending mist.

It was difficult to avoid breathing it all in. Hijikata coughed and gagged, and heard the others reacting similarly. At the same time, a new energy surged through his entire body. Once aching joints now moved about like well-oiled machinery, and his eyesight sharpened and focused on the miraculous transformation of the Shinsengumi into their original and youthful appearances.

“It’s a vaccine!” Yamazaki cried.

The weight of the world along with the need to prepare a final will and testament for fairly distributing his possessions had completely vanished from Hijikata’s shoulders. This was a great relief, because he didn’t want to deal with the legal paperwork for allotting equal portions of his remaining mayonnaise supply to his descendants, as there was sure to be a squabble over who deserved more.

“I feel…rejuvenated! Like I’ve been bathing in pools filled with Antarean cocoons!” Kondou declared with a hearty grin, raising his hands to the sky. “I have been blessed with the gift of eternal youth!”

“Did you have to get completely naked to celebrate, though?” a few of the newer Shinsengumi recruits asked. But Hijikata and the rest were well accustomed to the sight of a mosaic concealing his nether region.

* * *

Afterward, the wounded were all treated, including those belonging to the two gangs at Kondou’s direction. Through the aid of the regular police force, they would be transported to the short-term detention center where they would await the decision of the courts. There were tearful goodbyes, as the men saluted and thanked Kondou for his benevolence.

Relieved when they were finally gone, Hijikata concentrated the Shinsengumi’s efforts on the aging virus investigation, sending out two units – including Okita’s, denying his request for a nap first – to examine the fallen ruins of the palace in the sea. Matsudaira contacted Kondou and shared the details of his experience, revealing the real orchestrator behind the attack. Countless citizens came forward to complain and blame the Shinsengumi, the government, and taxes for not preventing this disaster.

With a mounting pile of new work befalling his everyday existence once again, Hijikata still managed to drag his fatigued body down to the medical wing and have his wound patched up, deciding that a mundane workweek wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

When all was calm again in the evening, order sliding back into place, Hijikata retreated to Kondou’s quarters where they would discuss the incident ahead of an official briefing tomorrow morning. Dressed in his civilian clothing, Hijikata settled himself down onto the floor and prepared to light a cigarette while he waited for Kondou, who was also out of uniform, to speak first. A table had been set out with a pot of steaming oolong tea and three cups.

“Ah, to be young again,” Kondou said softly, facing the open doorway with crossed arms, gazing out at the darkened courtyard with a wistful expression.

“You’re still young.” Hijikata rested the cigarette upon an ashtray, and closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the peace and quiet in the company of his general and the end of a long day.

“Not as young as I wish,” Kondou replied with a sigh, “We’re both getting older, you and I. I realized that today.”

“Well, we _did_ get older today.”

“Mm, and we’re fortunate it didn’t last long, although I’m thinking now that it might not have been a bad thing for us to experience old age.” Kondou nodded to himself. “Yes, in fact, I view this incident as a blessing in disguise. We’re all going to grow old someday. Our bodies will weaken and slow down. Grey hair and wrinkles will be the least of our concerns. We may wake up feeling cranky one day, energized the next, and morbid the day after that.”

“This conversation is a little morbid,” Hijikata murmured, bringing the cigarette to his lips for a drag. But he understood what Kondou was getting at.

“It’s not easy being old. Probably not easy just getting to that point! But I think if we can learn to age gracefully, body and soul, imparting wisdom to the younger generation and accepting the natural ending of life by leaving behind a shining legacy…” Kondou looked at him, smiling. “I think I’d be happy with that.”

Returning his smile, Hijikata thought about how he wanted Kondou to live a long and peaceful life filled with ordinary pleasures. There was no one who deserved it more.

“Ah, that’s what I wanted to say earlier.” Kondou cleared his throat and shifted around in place, so that he faced both Hijikata and the table. “Sorry about putting you on the spot for encouraging Michiyoshi-kun. I know you didn’t want to, but I appreciate you saying something. It helped us get through to those misguided men.”

“It’s not your fault. Sougo started it and I carried it out by choice.”

“Nevertheless, I was the one who insisted on speaking to him.” Kondou reached for the pot and carefully filled two of the cups. “I suppose I was caught up in the moment. But when Michiyoshi-kun spoke of his grandfather, I thought of…” Kondou grew silent and didn’t finish.

Hijikata tapped the cigarette against the ashtray. “I know what you thought.” He had nothing else to add, and was grateful when Kondou didn’t further press the subject. Thinking about Tamegorou, and the days Hijikata had spent fighting and threatening and brooding his life away, reluctant to even speak with his brother – that was something Hijikata avoided dwelling on for too long out of a remorseful heart.

“We can only hope Michiyoshi-kun takes your words to heart. There was no one better than you who could have reached him. He seemed to take a shine to you!”

“Apparently, it’s only because I’m going to resemble his grandfather someday,” Hijikata crushed the cigarette in the tray, extinguishing the embers. “If I live that long.”

Kondou chuckled. “You will, Toushi. I’ll make sure you do.”

Tucking his arms away into the folds of his kimono sleeves, Hijikata steered the conversation away from death. “Anyway, I don’t expect I made much of a difference. Like you said, it was the heat of the moment. Emotions are unreliable. Who knows if he’ll still remember what I told him when things go wrong again. It’s almost hypocritical of me to offer advice from one delinquent to another.” That, and he still hadn’t made the trip to visit Tamegorou before his death. Believing he had been too busy was an excuse. Blank letters kept their bond intact, but Hijikata deeply regretted not going to visit his brother at least once as an adult, who had accomplished a goal with the group of samurai he had chosen to leave home with. Just like it had been with another person, Hijikata was always too late in the end. As a result, he often immersed himself within his work, living his duty out to the fullest, so that his choices were not completely in vain.

“You’re too hard on yourself, Toushi,” Kondou replied, a bit firmly, “I’m sure if given the opportunity, you could turn any wayward youth – angry at the world and with himself – into a fine, respectable man of valour.”

“If I don’t kill him first.” Hijikata stared at the mist rising from his cup of tea, honoured by Kondou’s words, but as usual, felt unworthy of them and overwhelmed by how highly Kondou thought of him. The easy part of co-leading the Shinsengumi was that the men already respected Kondou to begin with, for it was him they naturally gravitated to and faithfully followed, attracted to his cheery nature and kind heart. While Hijikata did not rule solely by fear, knowing he had earned respect of his own merit from the men, he did not feel he possessed the capacity to truly change a life for the better the way Kondou seemed to do with minimal effort.

But, still, it wouldn’t stop him from trying, as Hijikata remembered how buoyant Michiyoshi looked in the middle of his arrest, so certain of brighter days ahead once he renewed his bond with his grandfather. While Hijikata could care less about Michiyoshi himself, it was better to have left some kind of worthwhile influence on the kid than to let him go on ahead, unwilling to turn his troublemaking life around.

“Excuse me? Chief? Sorry to interrupt, but there’s still one more problem…I think the virus and the vaccine combined together had an adverse effect on me.”

Both men glanced at the doorway where an elderly man stood on the engawa, rubbing his bony hands together, as though trying to warm them.

“What can I do for you?” Kondou asked, smiling, “Did you lose your way? This is the headquarters of the Shinsengumi.”

“No, I didn’t lose my way…can’t you tell what’s wrong?”

“Not really, sorry. Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

“It’s me, Yamazaki! Don’t you recognize me??”

Hijikata stared at the old man, who was hunched over with a wrinkled face and long white hair tied at the back. He was wearing the same clothes that Yamazaki had been wearing earlier, but anyone could wear them and claim another identity. Concluding that senility was setting in with their elderly visitor, Hijikata said, “You’re not Yamazaki. I saw him in the mess hall.”

Kondou frowned. “Really? I thought I saw him swinging a badminton racket in the training hall.”

“Maybe you did. I’ll punish him, then.”

“I wasn’t in any of those places for the past few hours! Besides, the issue of where you last saw me isn’t as important as the fact that I, Yamazaki Sagaru, am _old!_ ” The old man reached inside his kimono and brought out an anpan package. “See? This is proof of my identity!”

“Oh, it really _is_ you!” Kondou said.

“Is anpan my only defining trait as a character?” Yamazaki bemoaned with sinking shoulders.

“That’s the only way we know you’re Yamazaki,” Hijikata answered, taking a sip of his tea. “Without anpan, you’d just be another background character with a non-descript appearance.”

“Higher than a redshirt, more important than a guest character,” Kondou added, “but still not significant enough to get your own volume cover.”

Tears filling the creases in his face, creating rivers of anguish, Yamazaki cried, “I hate you all! And I hate myself most of all because it’s true!! I’m a good-for-nothing spy who can easily be replaced by a crow or a mouse, and no one would know the difference!”

Kondou boomed with laughter, slapping his knee several times. “Why don’t you come on in and sit down with us, Yamazaki? A bit of tea will clear your mind and warm your body. Even if you’re replaceable to the rest of the world, you’re still irreplaceable to the Shinsengumi!”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better??” But Yamazaki walked in and slowly eased himself down on the floor next to them, muttering about his stiff joints and lack of discernible purpose in the series other than advancing the plot or providing exposition.

Kondou filled the third cup with tea and handed it to Yamazaki. “We’ll see about getting that vaccine duplicated, but in the meantime, rest and enjoy yourself, as if this was your last evening. We never know what tomorrow will bring.”

Watching his old friend and his best spy converse together about bygone days and fond memories, Hijikata smiled and drank his tea and looked forward to the future.


End file.
